Unexpected friends
by RusEmp
Summary: For hundreds of years the humanity has been struggling for survival in a war against vicious ghost kind and their cruel tyrannical King. Young Sam Manson has devoted her entire life to fight the monsters who ruined her world and destroy them. But then she was...saved by one, and it just happened to be the imperious Ghost Prince.
1. Chapter I: Don’t go out alone

A.N. I cannot say that the idea is original, but I'm willing to make my personal touch.

Humans weren't prepared for them. There was nothing what could warn the mortals and prove their existence outside of fairy tales and legends. After all, who would believe into something like ghosts. The undead beings did step their feet into the mortals' part of reality, briefly, and then no one saw them again. It kept going like that for centuries, until their King started the invasion several decades ago. In one day, the world was already overrun by the ghouls. Nothing worked against them, no bullet, no explosion could harm the beings who could flick in and out of the physical plane.

But the mortals were adaptable, you have to give them credit. Some adapted to bow to their new masters, some adapted to hide from the destructive raids of their punishment expeditions. Some learned the weaknesses of the invaders, but sadly, it was too late. Hundreds were taken to the Ghost World, to be used as a slave labor, or for other purposes speaking of which was sick by itself. Total occupation regime worked in every town or village of the Earth, with all following traits: curfews, immediate judge, prosecution and punishment, done by the cruel soldiers who were free to do whatever they wanted.

In the Ghost King's eyes, mortals weren't worthy enough to even be a province. Occupation was the only path he saw.

But people learned, they found the ways of exterminating the threat. Ectoplasm, the element you won't find on Earth, but of which everything in the Ghost World was made, including its inhabitants. It could be used in weaponry, and some ghosts even had weapons charged by it. Their own blasts, shot from their hands were rather pathetic, so fully charged rifle worked fine. Humans weren't able to use them, since the charging was direct from the ghost to its gun. Reverse engineering was what helped them to use the undead's weapons against them.

Several rebellious spots were scattered throughout the world like seeds on a field during the spring sawing. When one cell was crushed, more appeared, like hydra grew more heads the more you cut off. Needless to say that His Majesty was furious. He was the ruler of two worlds, how dared they to insult him by rebelling. And the actions fit his feelings. For each ended ghost the rebels paid tenfold. It didn't crush their spirits, no matter how hard Dark tried. What a fitting last name for a being with such charming personality.

One of the cells was a perfect definition of the phrase 'hiding in the plain sight'. Amity Park was a half destroyed city, but it was a center of ghost activity. The portals were more active there, but for some reason theghosts were leaving immediately, except for the ones who maintained order. No one would have thought that the rebels would be active there. Their hideout was beneath the ground, beneath thirty feet of soil and concrete. Hundreds of safety measures were taken in order to prevent the undead from finding the place.

It was a safe heaven for the rebels, where they could always get weapons, supplies and orders from their leaders. Yes, of course they weren't a disorganized crowd, otherwise they would have been crushed by their enemies. Besides being given weapons, the rebels were also trained to fight, and what they severely lacked in numbers, they tried to compensate with the constant drills. And it was giving results, more often than, for example, a decade ago.

All of that was going within an atmosphere of utter secrecy. Not a single living soul except the one who joined could know about the membership in the rebellion. Some were orphans, and they were trained from childhood, like the person this talk is about.

"You are too slow, Samantha."

The fighter who the phrase was adressed to wiped her mouth. Samantha, or Sam, as she preferred to be called, was a young woman, barely out of age. She had short raven hair, tied in a high and short ponytail. Sam also had striking lilac eyes, which made her stand out from the crowd. Many years of trainings certainly had an effect on her figure and physical shape, making her capable of taking down most of the human opponents. Many called her rather attractive, but they usually got a punch into face afterwards.

Melee combat with the ghosts was a death sentence, but it could give some time to get a blaster. At the moment Sam was wearing a tight purple jumpsuit which had a black collar, with black belt and boots. The young woman blocked a hit from her sparring opponent, counterattacking and getting her own strike deflected. Sam's hand was suddenly twisted and she was pulled in a headlock.

"Dead," the woman heard a comment, before being let go.

It was incredible how well Maddie Fenton was holding despite her age. Being over forty years old she was still the best fighter and warrior of the Rebellion cell in Amity Park. She was also in charge of the revolt forces and, for some reason known only to her, a mentor to Sam for quite a while. Maddie had graying auburn hair and purple eyes of a brighter shade. She was wearing a jumpsuit of a blue color. Seeing Sam's disgruntled expression, Maddie smiled slightly.

"Don't worry, Sam, the trainings are never done in a few months. But I don't think that you are ready to go out yet."

"But you saw how I can shoot. I am capable," Sam argued.

"Maybe so, but it is too dangerous to send you out until you are ready for everything. Need some water?"

"Yeah," the younger woman said in a bit disgruntled voice.

They went to the room next door, which was something barely resembling a kitchen. Since Fentons were wanted by the Ghosts, she had to live there 24/7, so why not make a fitting room. The underground was a home to many freedom fighters, but the mid aged woman was there longer than anyone, along with her husband and daughter. So why not make a living space more comfortable, it was only natural. Yes, the yellow plates on the walls were a bit worn out, the furniture was as well, but it wasn't something unbearable. At least there was a working water system. Maddie poured some water into a metal mug while Sam examined the room for who knows what time.

There were no windows for obvious reasons. It wasn't big, about eight square meters if you don't count the cooking place. There were a fridge, an electric cooker and several shelves. There was also a small microwave, on top of which was a photo frame. It was a picture of Fenton family, taken eighteen years ago, the latest moment their family was together completely.

Near Maddie was Jack, her husband. He was a tall man, who barely fit into the image. Jack had raven black hair with a white trim near his neck, accompanied by ice blue eyes and a goofy smile on his face. In his large hands was a small two years old girl, with red hair and teal colored eyes. It was Jasmine, their daughter. Maddie was holding a newborn child, who was staring curiously at the camera. He looked a lot like his father, with the same black hair and blue eyes. Danny, they called him.

It was a tragedy for Maddie and Jack when the boy vanished. And they had previously thought that they were blessed with fortune. Danny could die the second he was born. Maddie was too stubborn to sit back while the others were fighting. Even when she was on the last month of pregnancy. Such an exposure to the ectoplasm should have led to the child's death. But he didn't, Danny survived the exposure, furthermore, without any noticeable mutations. It was a miracle, but it was destroyed after the boy had dissappeared a few days later.

As Sam was thinking about that, Maddie put the mug on a metal table with a loud sound, getting the younger woman's attention. Sam thanked the elder huntress and started drinking. Maddie looked where her student has looked and her expression became somber.

"He would have been barely older than you, you know?" She asked sadly.

"Yeah," Sam sighed, putting the mug down. "You have said this before, Mrs. Fenton."

"Have I? Sorry, my dear. It's just...I think you would have made nice friends."

Sam chuckled slightly. Honestly, the thought had crossed her mind a few times, but there was no point in thinking about that for too long. History doesn't tolerate 'ifs'. What happened did happen. Sam also wondered how could the boy disappeared. Fentons thought that that were ghosts, an obvious conclusion, really. But why? They didn't threaten Fentons and hereby got rid of them. The entire sheme seemed pointless. Yes, Pariah was a brute, there was no denying it, but there should have been someone who advised him, otherwise he wouldn't have ascended so high with sheer force alone.

The silence was broken when they heard a booming voice.

"Maddie, here I come!"

Maddie smiled. "In the kitchen, Jack."

The giant barged into the room, wearing his unmistakable orange jumpsuit. Seeing Sam, Jack beamed.

"Oh, hey there, Sam, came for the training?"

"Yes, Mr. Fenton."

"Can you imagine Mads? The lower part of the suit worked!"

"That's great news, honey."

"Yes, when the suit will be finished, we will be able to get rid of this slimy King and end the war!"

Jack was known to be optimistic about everything.

"I think I should be going now," Sam said.

"Don't you want to stay for dinner?"

"I really don't want to be a bother. I should eat my own ratios," she insisted, getting up from her seat.

"You aren't a bother sweetie," Maddie smiled. "You are like a daughter to us."

"Thank you, Mrs. Fenton, but I really got to go."

"Alright then."

Sam nodded and went out of their quarters, only to be greeted by a gloomy corridor with a blinking light bulb. Charming. But it was her home for the last fourteen years. Despite the fact that she lived there, everything around didn't come from nothing. People there had jobs, and used every tiny piece of money they could to purchase things for the needs of the Rebellion. Sam was not an exception.

On her way to her room the young woman met some of her comrades, but her thoughts were on another thing. Sam felt bad for fairing so badly during the practice. It was a private session, but the other instructors had previously seen her hand to hand combat. She didn't want to fail her mentor, and she didn't want to make her embarrassed. Suddenly Sam caught a glimpse of one person in particular.

"Wassup, Sam?" Tucker asked.

He was an eighteen years old man with dark skin, green eyes. Tucker was also wearing a yellow hoodie with a red barrette. He couldn't brag with his physical abilities, so Tucker worked in the center, aiding and guiding his comrades who were on the battlefield. And he was quite skillful in the matter.

"Hey, Tucker," Sam mumbled, still looking at the distance.

"Let me guess, not doing very well?" Tucker asked, writing something on the PDA in his hands.

"How did you guess?" The woman asked sarcastically. "Yes, the same problem as ever. I just don't know why I can't improve."

Tucker shrugged. "It's not like people learn these things in less than a year."

"Yeah, and what about your little crush?" Sam stopped and looked at him. Tucker froze and turned to her, fixing the glasses on his nose.

"Valerie is just..."

"C'mon, say it."

Like hell Tucker was going to answer her question while seeing the fire in her eyes. Luckily, they were near Sam's quarters. It was basically a 1010 room with everything piled nearby, except the toilet. It was the separate room. In one corner was a small bed, in another was a table, another corner was occupied by a kitchen. Sam went to the fridge and took a carrot from the fridge. It was hard to be a vegetarian while living off the ratios, but she managed.

Tucker sat on a bed. "I don't like what you are planning," he grumbled, causing Sam to look at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I know that look. It usually means that you are up to something which will backfire at ME."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Yep."

Sam, sighed. "Look, Tucker, it's nothing serious. Just a little ambush on the small patrol of pathetic ghosts."

"Are you crazy?! Going there all alone?!"

"Yep. I go there, come back. Simple as that."

"Going against the beings who become stronger during the night in the late evening?" Tucker asked sarcastically, "Sure, go ahead."

Going against the ghosts at night was a suicide for an untrained human. The ghosts knew that, so they could be caught unaware. Besides, the patrolmen weren't that powerful, not every ghost was as mighty as the Ghost Lords.

But there was also a problem of getting out during that night. The curfew worked in the facility, so that's why Tucker's assistance was required. He could help to sneak out from the place. He could also use scanners while being inside the vault and warn her if some ghost would be smart enough to sneak from behind. And when the time came, the young woman came out from facility through the secret entrance. Sam immediately scrutinized her nose. She hated the smell of the sewers. But it was safe, at least. Sam went out through the gutters.

"So, I have...observed their movements," Tucker said through the comlink on Sam's ear. "I know their routes. Three patrolmen are on Winston Drive, just behind the corner. There aren't any ghosts nearby. The rest is on you."

The huntress nodded, before moving out. The city had seen better days, that's for sure. The tall buildings were empty and dirty, just like the streets after the ghosts' curfew. Not a single living soul around. People around mostly lived in poverty, only those, who were useful to the Ghost King or whoever he had appointed, lived like they used to be and even better. Nevertheless, they were looked down upon by both sides. The atmosphere was grim and hopeless, like if someone with bad fantasy had taken the most stereotypical surroundings and used them. It made the woman hate the invaders even more, even if they knew about the old world only from the tales of elder generations.

As they were going through an alleyway, the rebel didn't notice an extra pair of eyes watching her with curiosity from the building's top.

"Well, it should be entertaining," the person mumbled with a strange note of excitement, leaning against the edge of the roof, knowing that the situation was going to take a nasty turn for the girl below.

At the first glance he wouldn't have guessed that she was a rebel. She seemed so fragile, but the blasters weren't lying around casually. Humans were amusing little things, it was interesting for him to watch how they slithered around Pariah's fingers, and it was even more entertaining for the ghost to watch how his father was throwing tantrums for that reason. And pieces of furniture. He wasn't afraid of that, because he never was the reason of the anger. And here the unknown observer thought that him being sent to the Human world was a punishment.

Sam stopped near the end of an alleyway. She peaked out and indeed saw three armored ghosts. As the most of their race, they had green skin and blood red eyes without pupils. They were dressed in the black medieval-like armor, with purple pieces of cloth beneath. Their backs were turned to her, so it was the best moment to strike. Sam started to prepare her blaster, which was quite a tricky procedure, no one wanted a gun to blow into his face. But she slowed down a bit as a thought occured in her mind.

'They aren't dressed like patrolmen,' she noted mentally.

Sam thought she had seen the picture of them somewhere...then the woman dispersed it, deciding that it

But she finished loading the gun, setting the middle level of power. She didn't want to waste all ectoplasm in one shot. Suddenly a comlink beeped in her ear.

"Sam, those guys are too powerful to be the patrolmen!" Tucker called as his sensors were finally able to determine their level of power.

But he was too late, Sam had already fired. One of the patrolmen made a green ectoplasmic shield and easily blocked the shot.

"Those are Fright Knight's soldiers," Tucker finished, making his companion pale.

Sam decided to get back before the ghosts got to her, but as she turned around, one of the soldiers appeared in front of the woman, grinning from ear to ear under opened helmet, showing black teeth.

"Well, well, well, who do we have 'ere," he said, before pushing the rebel out of the alleyway and to the street. Two other ghosts approached them,

"Out of your warm home after curfew, huh? Weren't you told that good girls stay at home during that time?" the armored being added mockingly.

"Sam, what's going on?!" Tucker shouted through the communicator.

"Sir, she is armed," another guard added.

"Hm, yes. Rebels, are we? Tsk, tsk, tsk. And going out at night, no self preservation at all," The leader said, like he was actually sorry for his captive.

"I don't need your pity, you slime!" Sam spat.

"Well, this makes it even more interesting," the apparent leader unsheathed his green sword. "Otherwise it won't be much fun."

The human prepared to fight for her life. Sam was the first to shoot at the nearest soldier. It didn't have much effect, because the supernatural reaction allowed him to move aside. But it did create a one moment confusion enough for the huntress, or more of a prey now, to make a run for it. Sam ducked behind the old and rusty car. She took the blaster and set it to maximum. It was a drastic step, but she didn't have another way.

Suddenly two hands, phasing through the car, grabbed her from behind. Sam was pinned to the metal wall and was forced to drop the weapon. She was thrown on the ground, before the assaulter stepped through the broken vehicle, his seemingly bulky armor making metal sounds. Sam suddenly spun around, pointing the picked up blaster at him. She smirked, before pressing the trigger. The green blast pierced the ghost's chest. Screaming, the ghost was reduced to the puddle of ectoplasm, and his armor fell on the ground. The huntress didn't have time to cheer, because she was roughly grabbed by her neck.

"You little brat," the ghost growled before kicking her in the gut, pinning the woman to the ground. Solid, sharp asphalt.

Before Sam could even blink, she was then hurled to the wall.

Sam hated to say or even think about such thing as being too weak. But there was a border between self respect and denial. And she couldn't go against the fact. But she wasn't going to give up that easily. Oh, and heavens forbid her from becoming on of those after her death.

Meanwhile the observer did just that, observed. So frail, and so feisty. A true joy for his eyes. Such a performance and such a dramatic end. He was getting too carried away. Suddenly an idea occurred in his mind, and it put a smirk on his face. There was nothing better than to take the prize out of Fright Knight's grasp. The guy would know how to mess with him of all people.

Sam's vision was getting blurry from the beating she received. Her costume was torn in many places, she was bleeding from a multitude of wounds. Her communicator was smashed and she was left to the hands of cruel fate.

"Hm, had enough, little wretch?" The armored green skinned piece of slime asked.

A spew of blood and saliva was his answer. Roaring, he was about to finish it all, end her pathetic and fragile human life, but then he heard a voice.

"Enough."

Sam was dropped on the ground, and she grunted from the impact. Taking short breaths, she wondered what it was, as she couldn't see properly, for that she needed strength to move her head. But she heard the voice. So commanding, arrogant, yet playful, as if they had just drew a picture on a list of paper, not almost beaten a young woman to her death. All of that was combined with a tone of utter apathy, of youthfulness.

"No way," the ghost mumbled. "I...We didn't know you will be here."

"Yet here I am," the tone remained. Sam guessed that whoever it was, the guy was not to be messed with. "Just what are you doing here?"

"We've caught this petty human snooping around. She is a part of the Rebellion, obviously."

Sam saw a pair of white boots in front of her. If only she could look up.

"Petty? She has killed one of your kin," an amusement slipped through the emotionless mask. Talking about the comrade's death like they were mere figures on a chessboard. "Either she is stronger than you give her credit for, or you are pathetic. Pick one."

The ghost would have done a lot for such arrogance. Be it someone BUT the person even many ghosts wanted to stay away from.

"Thanks for the compliment," Sam said sarcastically, before coughing.

"It was anything but the compliment," the man seemed non phased that she was talking back to him, "It was not even directed to you, girl."

"With whose shining boots am I having honor speaking with?"

A snort was a response. "I doubt my name would tell you anything. I'd rather remain in my world to coming to this stinking hole."

"Just end this all, and I'm done."

Sam heard a laughter - a cold laughter, although not something maniacal from the old movies. Back when they were being made. It was calm, yet the one which sent shivers even down Sam's spine. Suddenly the young woman wished that he wouldn't have come. There was something about that kind of people, the brutes always inspired less fear than the likes of the one who stood near her.

"Silly girl. This isn't going to end that easily."

"You wish to interrogate her? She is but a low ranking freshmeat, are you sure she knows anything at all?"

"Oh, you will be surprised. But it is not your problem anymore. Get lost."

Sam heard multiple footsteps growing more and more distant.

"Well, girl, you seem to be a bloody mess."

She was about to retort, but then she felt a cold touch on her body.

"I swear if you..."

The seemingly young man burst into laughter. "I prefer the ones which are already dead or completely alive, not the ones in process."

Sam yelped in pain as the cold fingers touched her bruises. "And you want to finish it?" She asked.

"Maybe. Everything depends on whether or not you are going to wake up alive. Considering the blood loss."

As he said it, she suddenly felt really dizzy. Yes, the loss was catching up with her.

"Good night."


	2. Chapter II: Welcoming captivity

Sam was used to rough mornings. However that one was on her top list. All her muscles were sore, and she could barely move. The young woman felt something soft beneath her, at least something softer than a sharp asphalt. It was really quiet. Maybe that pipe because of which it sometimes was a headache to fall asleep was finally fixed. Sam couldn't help but smile. Yes, that was appreciated, she would thank whoever did it.

Then Sam slowly opened her lilac eyes. She realized that it wasn't her room. Not at all. The girl jumped into seating position, gasping in realization. The events of the yesterday caught up with her. It was painfully obvious that she was far from her home. The room she was in was not big, yet it wasn't small. Sam was sitting on a double bed positioned in the center of the room. Half of her body was covered by a thin blanket. The walls were covered in dark blue wallpapers, and one window was to the left of the bed. There was only one wardrobe, other than that the room was empty.

The young huntress was confused. All she could remember was that some guy cast off the ghosts who almost killed her. Maybe she was at that guy's house. But from what Sam could remember, he didn't sound exactly welcoming. At least he had a decency to give her a bed, that was a relief to a certain degree. Then Sam looked down and saw that some of her wounds had healed. In some places her skin was dry and she couldn't feel them. Something akin to getting a frostbite, when your nerves stop working as well. But that spots were small, for the rare exceptions, she should have been fine.

Suddenly Sam heard a sip. Her head darted towards the spot in the corner, the only thing she missed while observing. Wait, she didn't miss it. Nothing had been there. Well, now there was. A young man was sitting on a chair crosslegged, with a small plate and a cup in his hands. Sam did find him quite handsome at first, although the appearance was indeed unusual. His hair was messy and astonishingly white, so vibrant that it seemed to glow. Not to mention the eyes of a color of pure, unrefined ectoplasm. They held a look of certain amusement. The man was wearing dark shirt and blue jeans. He smirked once the huntress looked at him.

"I was starting to wonder if I'd have to bury you," the man commented, making another sip.

His voice was just as youthful as before Sam blacked out. The appearance confirmed her theory of the age. It was soft, but at the same time dry and ignorant tone partially ruined that softness.

"Well, I'm still alive, at least," Sam rubbed her forehead. "What happened?"

"You were reduced to a status of a bloody pulp, I came in and saved your pretty butt."

Sam wasn't sure how to take it. Everything depended on what exactly the stark haired man implied. She seemed to be too well brought up to inquire the details. A momentary silence settled, as the two watched each other.

"Thank you...I guess..."

The man let out a dry laughter, putting the cup on the nearest shelf. Sam was already familiar with it, but it didn't make her feel any better. A feeling of dread rose in her stomach and up her throat. There was simply something offsetting about him, which made her insides shiver.

"You were hit on the head probably too hard," the man rose to his feet. "Do you remember anything at all?"

"Yes...you were there," Sam rubbed her forehead again. "The ghosts...let you take me?"

"Alright, this part of that brains of yours has lived," the man crossed his hands, but not before tossing her some clothes. "Dress up. And better wash yourself, you stink."

Sam narrowed her eyes. Damn, was that guy an arrogant bastard. "Where are my clothes?"

"Burned them. Not much of use, anyway, with their condition."

The woman's eyes widened. There was a spare communicator inside. It made her suspicious. Did he know about the device he had destroyed? As if hearing her thoughts, the stark haired man smirked. Sam noticed that his teeth were sharper than that of average human.

"Looking for this?" He asked, holding a small device between the fingers after taking it from his pocket.

"I...give it back, please," Said Sam.

One scissors-like motion was enough to snap the little thing in half. She stared at the showoff. Part of her couldn't believe that he just snapped a piece of strong alloy like he had just bent a thin sheet of aluminum. Another part was just pissed.

"You asshole," she cursed. "How am I supposed..."

How quickly it had happened she did not know. She only felt a rough, extremely strong hand grabbing the lower part of her chin. Sam gasped involuntary out of surprise as the neon green eyes pierced through her skin and deep within her soul. They now glistened with anger. The huntress grabbed his hand, but all her already meager strength was not enough to force it away.

"Quite a mouth you have," he whispered. "Know that I won't tolerate insults from some pathetic mortal who is alive only because of me."

The man let go of Sam, before a realization of his words came down upon her. It was so damn obvious, how couldn't she realize it sooner?! Ghosts relented only before one thing - a ghost of superior power. That in turn meant that the one standing before her was an undead as well.

"You are...a ghost," she voiced her thoughts.

"Congratulations. Even your brains were able to realize that."

Sam glared at him, the answer had been a straightforward insult. Moreover, the man turned out to be a being she despised above all else. The feeling was mutual at the seems of it, but she was nevertheless at loss about what to do. Fright Knight's servants were far from being weak, and for them to tremble at the mere sight of that smug bastard, he had to be completely out of her league. Sam guessed it would be better not to make that psychotic man angry at her.

"Can I go to the shower?"

Her captor snorted and started walking out of the door. "Second door on the right. And no funny business."

"Same to you," she mumbled.

Even if Sam had decided not to provoke him, it didn't mean she would let him do whatever he pleased.

The ghost rolled his eyes and went out. Once Sam made sure that he was in another room, she carefully got up from the bed. She was still able to walk normally, which meant none of her bones was broken. Sam noticed that she only had her underwear. She didn't want to waste her effort to be angry again and again. Even if that ghost was looking at her all that time. And where was the guarantee that he didn't go further?

Sighing, Sam entered the bathroom. As she was starting the routine, the young woman couldn't understand the situation she got herself in. That ghost was toying with her, he knew about his superiority in the current situation and exploited it to his desire and pleasure. The woman also noticed the oddity of the place. She was not in the Ghost Zone, she had clearly seen the light going through the curtains. Why would and how could he remain in the Human world? The ghosts couldn't stay there for a large amount of time, they became weaker, for they couldn't survive without enough ectoplasm, especially if they exhausted their power. Although that time could last for weeks, months and even years. And that guy got himself a seemingly nice apartment. Even despite the warm water running down her body Sam shivered at the thought of what he had done to its owners.

Finally she exited the bathroom. Sam felt fresher after washing herself, but wearing obviously male shirt was not what she had in mind. The huntress was unsure about how to proceed, she only saw a light in one of the rooms. Hoping that it wasn't some kind of a torture room, Sam decided to take a peek inside. Her concerns turned out to be misplaced, as that was simply a living room, even if quite posh. There were several bookshelves, armchairs and small coffee tables. The windows were closed, hid behind dark curtains. Damn, there was even a fireplace in a multistory building, although Sam guessed she shouldn't be surprised. She doubted that the ghost asked anyone. Speaking of whom, he was sitting on one of the chairs, with his back turned towards the entrance.

"Finally," the man grumbled at hearing her soft steps on a wooden floor. He didn't even look back. "Left anything there for me or am I going to wash myself in a pond?"

"Relax, nothing would wash away that stench of yours, ghost."

"I don't recall leaving 'my stench' on you."

Sam could feel the smirk on his hidden face. It was weird how the ghost reacted so differently to each word she said. Actually, she had never seen a ghost who was actually talking to people, not just gloating in its superiority. In this case, there were both. Sam could try to take advantage from the precedent situation she found herself in.

"Are you going to take a seat or just stare at the beautiful chair I'm sitting on?" He snapped her out of her observations.

The huntress decided to comply. She moved forward and sat in front of the man, yet again noticing some unique traits of his. Sam had never met a ghost who looked so...human. Hence why she hadn't realized he was an undead in the first place. His skin wasn't green, blue, or of some other odd color, no, it was simply tanned. Ghosts usually radiated glow, yet around him it was rather small, only in such dim lit room was she able to see it.

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked, seeking an answer to the dreaded question.

"I let you go."

The woman froze, disbelieving what she had just heard. She must have misheard the meaning of his words, was he really going to free her? It's so ridiculous on so many levels. Sam had already come up with many ideas of what to expect, but it wasn't on her list. Then it clicked.

"You want to track me to our vault," she narrowed her eyes.

Yet again the ghost let out a chilling laughter and smirked. "You mean the one beneath the building at 7, Palm street?"

To describe Sam's horror there would be no words. He knew where all her comrades in arms were hiding...

"Relax," the man snapped her out of observation. "His Majesty doesn't know this yet."

If only she had a gun on herself. But it was probably lying around at the place where that fight had occurred. Another thing came to Sam's mind. Why didn't he tell Pariah about this? He was a tyrant not seen before, but he could and he did reward those who served him well. And if there was something the ghosts craved was power. Why wasn't he showing that ambition? That ghost sitting next to her was an anomaly. After all, why would he lie about this, if her knowing wouldn't make any difference?

"Why didn't you tell?"

"Multiple reasons," he leaned back in the armchair. "First of all, you humans make this rotting hole you call home interesting. All that petty Rebellions of yours make my afterlife more satisfying. And with you gone I'll die again from boredom."

Sam glared at him. "We are not toys for you to play with. We want to be free, to make everything as it had been before you, monsters, came in and ruined everything!"

"You may not agree but that's what you are. A theater without director," he kept his smirk, despite her outburst in the end. "Strong thrive, weak die. Isn't it what the laws of nature dictate?"

"You are not a part of it to make such claims," she responded.

"Perhaps. Doesn't change the fact that you are at our mercy, and, by the extension, mine. I don't hear gratitude, actually."

"For what?"

"Don't play dumb with me, I did save you."

"I doubt it was because of altruistic ideals."

"True. I just wanted to make fun of Fright's goons. Again, I was bored. Flames, I hate this world," he muttered in the end and rubbed his temples.

"Then why be here in the first place?"

"Because my father ordered me to. Apparently, Fright Knight's constant failures didn't do him any good."

Sam raised her eyebrow. "You say it like he is your enemy."

"Rival at the Royal Court, obviously."

"Uhm...excuse me, sir."

Sam's head snapped towards the entrance and she almost jumped. There was a green skeleton, dressed in a torn tuxedo at the entrance. She wondered if it was actually what she saw. The owner of the place had a weird sense of humor.

"Yes?" The stark haired ghost asked calmly.

"Shall I bring the breakfast?"

"You may," His Master responded without even looking back.

"What...was that?" Sam asked as the skeleton bowed and left the room.

"My butler. I could bring at least something here, thankfully."

Sam saw a glass of water on a coffee table. Seeing no reaction, she started drinking, as she suddenly felt really thirsty.

"Living posh, aren't you?" The woman deadpanned.

The man snorted. "Did you really expect Daniel Phantom, son of the High King Pariah Dark live in a roach filled room such as yours?"

Sam coughed the water and almost dropped the glass out of her complete and utter shock. No damn way she could have expected THAT one coming. Her mind was racing on rapid speed as she could only stare at 'Phantom'. Whoever gave birth to that one had to be Buddha reincarnated. Sam did see Pariah on the images, and that giant looked nothing like Phantom. Probably took after his mother, whoever she was. No one even knew of his existence until he decided to reveal himself! What for, was another mystery to solve, but that big unknown made Sam uneasy. Since that man was a Prince, and thus possessed some of his father's power, she really was a goner if he decided to do something.

Phantom meanwhile crossed his legs, as the skeleton butler returned, putting the food on the coffee table. It wasn't before the stark haired ghost snapped his fingers and the fire in the fireplace burst brighter, Sam had snapped out of her confusion. The smell from the food was so wonderful, thought a girl who had spent her entire life eating some sub-products. It was something which didn't go unnoticed.

"Enjoy while you can," the ghost said almost pitying. "You probably won't get another chance."

He was teasing her, Sam knew it. Instead of looking at fresh eggs, sausages and toasts, she turned to him.

"The people are starving out there. And you are enjoying this feast in a middle of blight."

"Compared to what my father has this is hounds' food," Phantom deadpanned. "It's their problem and I have no moral obligations before them."

"This is why everyone hates you," Sam hissed. "You are just..."

A raised finger stopped her from doing something she could regret. The man smirked. She learned her place quickly.

"Hating us won't fill their stomachs," the ghost responded with amusement, taking a piece of bacon in his mouth.

Silence settled after that. Sam only observed. She noticed the manners he had, something on the level of reflexes. He ate according to the rules of eating etiquette. Funny that the ghosts had the same ones.

"Do you actually need to eat?" Sam suddenly asked.

"One can enjoy the taste despite the need. Are you going to eat up or not?"

The woman shook her head and crossed her hands. "I'm not taking anything from you, ghost."

Phantom's neon eyes looked up from his food. "Admirable. This I cannot deny, Ms. Manson."

"You know my name?"

"You carry name tags within your clothes. Dangerous practice, if you have a family, that is."

"I don't..."

"Well, then you don't have any factor to be threatened with."

"Thanks a lot," Sam said dryly and crossed her hands.

"You are welcome," Phantom responded with an innocent smile, ignoring the sarcasm.

Sam leaned back in her seat, taking another look around the room. Yes, the furniture was clearly something unaffordable for most, but the ghosts' aristocracy certainly could have that and even more. And also someone to clean up the place. It disgusted her how they enjoyed themselves to the fullest extent, to their filthy cores' content, while the people around were dying from starvation and poverty. They were nothing but horrid beasts which destroyed everything on their wake.

The curtains were closed, so Sam didn't see what was outside, or where she was to begin with. Something told her that it had been done with that same purpose. He didn't want his place to be found. The situation was truly unbelievable. She was having breakfast, actually just watched him do that, with the Prince of Ghosts of all people. Or not people, called that for the lack of terms.

"Why...do you let me go?" Sam asked.

"Because I want to," Phantom shrugged. "If you die too quickly it won't be much fun. I am hoping you would put as much as resistance as others before you, because so far you humans are far behind my expectations."

"Before us?"

"Of course," the man snorted. "You aren't the first, neither you will be the last. My job is solving the problems. Squishing the rebellions. But I am always up for a challenge."

"Then fight Pariah," Sam said sarcastically. "Or is he out of your league?"

Phantom's eyes flashed brightly. "Your jokes are misplaced. Father is out of anyone's league," he leaned back. "Besides, I'm not interested in usurpation. Again, I solve problems. He receives them, you create them. I'd prefer to be in this part of this closed chain."

"Because otherwise it is boring," Sam said dryly.

"You are catching up," the man said with amusement. "Good human."

How quickly his mood changed. Sam's glare meanwhile could burn a wall. It pissed her off that she couldn't do anything and that bastard was using his invincibility to the extent. Calling her like she was some kind of dog. Phantom only smirked in amusement and put a hand on his chin. Yes, like a dog barking at a lion. He then rose to his feet and walked to the shelf. Sam was yet again confused, ghosts usually preferred to float, without touching the ground, yet the Prince was doing it so casually. He was so human like, incredibly so for a ghost, yet his disdain for the mortal race was as high as any other's. Phantom took a book from there.

"I think it is time you took your leave," he said, turning around. "Your friends probably think you are dead."

"How long was I unconscious?" Sam asked.

Phantom took a silvery pocket watch and flipped it open. "Thirteen hours," he answered curtly.

The woman couldn't help but agree. Everyone had obviously freaked out by then. A pang of guilt happened in her chest, it was because of her recklessness she got into that mess. Sam was ashamed of herself for doing so despite the warnings. And if she returned everyone would also get pissed, if not relieved. Sam hoped that the information she had gathered from that conversation was enough for the others to forgive her act of misbehavior. Phantom suddenly coughed and got her attention.

"If your friends kick you out, I might spare you," he smirked. "Make sure that the story you are going to tell them is believable."

Sam wondered if the ghost knew everything all along. And because of that the conversation had even taken place.

"I'd have liked to continue our most peculiar conversation, but I'm having visitors soon, and they won't take you as lightly as I have."

"How am I going to get to the hideout?" She asked.

"Simple," the ghost grinned, before putting a cold hand on her shoulder.

Suddenly Sam felt all air kicked out of her guts. She felt the ground beneath her as she fell on her knees. Phantom was standing near her, dusting his clothes. The woman finally took a look around, and saw that she was in an alley, somewhere in town. Her eyes widened in surprise. So he could teleport, alright. At least some of his powers were known now. Sam got up on her legs, facing the ever smirking Ghost Prince.

"So...what now?" She asked.

"I'll be honest. Next time we meet I'll probably have to kill you," Phantom examined his fingers nonchalantly. "For you will have outlived your usefulness and foolishly try to destroy me. I want your friends to know about me, that's also why you are still alive. And better change your location. It was too simple to find."

"You are going to break in."

"If I wanted, I would have done so already," the ghost raised his pale eyebrow. "I'm going to play more fairly."

"Play? Is that all just a game to you?" Sam muttered.

She didn't know why she was asking this. It was too obvious that the man in front of her was hardly the gentlest person around. Yet, unlike the other ghosts he almost...pitied the humans, maybe, even if he wouldn't admit it. His willingness to act more tolerable could tell that. No, Sam decided. It was a simple illusion, created by her mind out of surprise at such behavior of the ghostly heir.

Suddenly her stomach growled, as the lack of breakfast caught up to her. Sam reddened, and she heard a laughter. This time it didn't sound that malicious. Phantom tossed her something, what the woman caught. Sam looked in her hand and saw a chocolate bar. She had never seen one before.

"Take this at least," The Prince chuckled. "You aren't much of a fighter on that pseudo food of yours."

With that Phantom turned around and vanished in the darkness of the alley. Sam looked down at the bar and sighed, putting it in the pocket. She went off in direction of the vault.

The Prince meanwhile smirked. "Maybe staying here won't be that boring, father."

That pesky rebellion would be fun to crush. He just needed to play that game as he always did. As the King's most useful servant.


	3. Chapter III: Report

Right after leaving the human near the less than pleasant entrance, watching Sam disappear in the fouls melling darkness, Phantom disappeared from the view as well. He returned to his apartment, the stench of the place was still in his nose. There was nothing he could do about that, so the ghost had to bear with it. The prince made several steps within the corridor, when the familiar green skeleton appeared and bowed.

"My Lord, he is here," he whispered, barely moving the lower jaw.

With a slight wave of the hand, Phantom changed his attire. That human clothes he had were just to mess up with his captive. They had served their purpose well, but they weren't needed at the moment. On their place were black pants and shirt with green buttons and silver trimming. A white shoulder cape was hung around his collar. Calmly dismissing his servant, the Prince went further, into the living room.

There stood a tall person, clad in pitch black armor. His face was hidden within the helmet, in its shadow shone green eyes, which held a look of disdain for the place. Obviously a well furnished place of comfort was not for his taste. A purple cape made of flames was covering the man's back. Phantom sighed mentally, before his cough made the visitor turn to him.

"There you are," he grumbled with his low and echoing voice. "Finally showed up."

"I tolerate your insults only because each time you think up something good, Fright."

"You are the one who has set up this meeting and now you are getting late."

"Don't be such a crybaby. Yes, I am late, simply because I am getting accustomed to the place. You don't put the records on my table."

Now he was at fault, Fright Knight grumbled. If the brat hadn't been a prince, he would have long since got rid of him. Everything came crashing around him only because one day the King announced about his son's birth. Now Phantom was the favorite, and held the respect, so hard to come by from the likes of Pariah. And the ghost somehow suspected that behind many of his failures stood the same silver haired lad in front of him.

"What do you need, Your Highness?" Fright asked mockingly.

"I offer you cooperation in this case."

"Oh, really, now," the invisible smirk could only be guessed by the slight narrowing of the left eye.

"That's what you get while extending a hand," Phantom sighed dramatically, helping himself some wine. "Some people always mistake pity for weakness."

"I do not need your pity."

"Tsk, tsk. I am helping you return father's respect. Your past failings will remain in the past shall I vouch for you after everything we've had."

"And you are asking for this because..."

"Because I admit that you are more familiar with this world than I am. And I would need a small favor from you as well."

The Knight barked a laugh. "Look at who is high and mighty here. First interfering with the job of my subordinates and now having the audacity to demand something."

"It is not a demand," Phantom smiled calmly. "I can as well cast you away from my place and you would lose your chance. Who knows when such opporunity comes up again."

"I will gain whatever I want by myself, prince."

"Yet you have come here," the obviously younger ghost smirked. "The invitation clearly stated that it was not an order, but a request."

"I was merely curious what you have to say. Knowing how you interprete everything, it could be a hidden order out of 'politeness'."

"I don't do polite if you speak to me like that," the smile vanished. "Now. I must repeat my offer. You assist me with this little case, I bring you up from being stuck doing menial and shameful tasks."

Fright silently stared at his superior. It was strange of him. Phantom was too proud to ever admit his weakness. The hereditary trait, obviously. Many noted how alike in character the father and son were. What a joy for many. The offer did sound fishy, indeed, and Phantom had zero trust of the former right hand of the King. Hatred was a more proper word. Yet, it was obvious that the offer did not bring pleasure to the prince, either. He was a skillful actor, and playing card of sudden pleasantry was pointless, Fright guessed.

"What was that other favor?"

Phantom's lips turned slightly upwards. Finally the ice cracked.

"Simple. I know that some of the rebels are hiding in your domain."

"Impossible."

"My servants are good at their job. Yours, however, are stretched thin across your lands, as well as the human world. Perfect for them, not sabotaging the lords supporting that petty misbehaving of theirs. Bad for you. Even if I am here, I still preserve order in our kingdom."

"And what do you gain?"

"It's not like I can barge there uninvited. Even better if you do this job for me. I'm busy with the humans, and you surely do mind them on your territory."

Now it sounded way too appealing to be true. If you don't count the fact that by killing the rebels in his domain he would be doing an errand for his most despised person. And if he refused, that would be seen as an act of treachery. Now that was Phantom Fright knew too well. A cunning little pest.

"I'll get rid of them myself," the armored ghost said. "And for myself."

The prince narrowed his eyes. "As long as I get what I want and everything is done as I want. I care only for dead rebels."

After a minute of contemplation, during which Phantom was getting annoyed and impatient, Fright Knight crossed his hand, clanking with his dark metal armor. Even if the offer was coming from his rival, the opportunity was worth it. But he should tread carefully. No teeling what the prince actually had in mind.

"You better do your part, Phantom. I agree."

It caused a grin to climb up the other ghost's face. "Splendid!"

Sam slopped through the sewers, covering her nose from all that disgusting smell. Maybe it was one of the defense systems she didn't know about, after all, the ghosts did have very keen senses. Sam's posture was confident - she had to get the information she had received to the leadership of their movement. Maddie would listen, and she was a part of the committee in charge. They had to listen, otherwise they all would be doomed.

Sam neared one cramped space between two support beams, before pressing one of the bricks. Then the wall rolled to the side, revealing a dark corridor. Not too soon she had stepped inside when the light blared into her face. It switched off at her press of the button. The metal floor resonated with her boots hitting it, the corridor was empty. There were much better exits. Longer, yes, but just as safe and undetectable. Sam wished that Phantom had dropped her there, instead of canalization.

She got to the more lively space, where the people were cramped in the barracks. There was one narrow corridor, with small rooms to the left and to the right. The members of the resistance were doing usual things while not training. Some were warming up near the batteries. It was quite cold and wet there. She took a sigh, surprised that no one reacted to her like she had expected. It's like there was nothing unusual about her returning alive.

"Sam?"

It was Tucker. It was just her luck he was on there at that time, and Sam didn't know if she should have been happy or not. Because of all people who would have been worried about her, Tucker was among those who feared more than anyone for her health. The dark skinned teen at first wanted to lunge and hug his best friend as hard as he could, but then something stopped him. Tucker took a cautious step back, his green eyes as wide as saucers.

"How do I know it is really you and not a ghost possessing you?" He whispered.

"Maybe because I haven't triggered any sensors?" Sam raised her eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah, haven't thought of that..."

Then it happened, Tucker hugged her tightly, and the raven haired woman smiled and returned it.

"I'm so glad you are alright, Sam, it would have been boring without ya," the tech operative smirked.

"I know."

"Wait a second..." Tucker turned on the light and saw something confusing. "Where is your suit?"

Sam mentally cursed. Of all things the young man had to ask about her wearing a male T-shirt.

"It's a long story, Tuck. Look, I've got to speak to Maddie. Where is she?"

"It's a weekly meeting, Sam. She is occupied at the moment. Look, I just thought you have died out there," Tucker whispered. "Can you spare me a few minutes? How did you even come out alive?!"

"I was...saved."

The man smirked. "Oh, and it wasn't just anyone, eh?" He asked.

"Yes. It was a ghost."

Tucker's expression instantly changed into that of utter shock and disbelief. It would have looked comical, if the situation allowed it to be that way.

"What?" He whispered.

"Come with me if you want. But what I've found is goddamn important, Tucker. Our survival depends on it."

The tech wizard nodded mutely, deciding that it would be better to let her go to Maddie that instant. If they would be admitted. Even more corridors stood on their way, more doors and spins in which only they - those who had spent most of their lifetime in that long rabbit hole, could orientate with ease. At some places the lights were even nonexistent, flickering lightbulbs threatened to finally burn out or shatter onto the wet floor. With each step Sam was losing her confidence, for she was about to speak with their most high ranking members. It wasn't something occurring daily for someone who hadn't even properly began the field practice.

But she assured herself, thinking about how important that message was. And no matter what she was wearing or what she looked like were unimportant. Never could she picture herself at such situation. Yet again, everything seemed abnormal as of late.

The door to the required room was like many others. It was not even guarded, as the place was lively enough. The people inside could take care of themselves, instead sending the other people to do other, not so menial tasks. Sam took a shuddering breath.

"Don't worry, Sam, everything will be alright. Just keep your cool."

The woman sighed and pressed the button. The door slid open and she went in.

Sam wasn't immediately greeted by a group. No, there was a wall, and she had to turn to the left, and then to the right. The room was neatly decorated, as its owner had a taste. There were scavenged vases and even paintings. But the vibrant smell of smoke made the woman cough quietly. Someone had gotten hands on cigarettes as well. They weren't that uncommon, you just needed to know where to search. Finally, Sam saw a circular table at which several people sat. Among them she saw Maddie. Gaining her courage, Sam slightly knocked on the wall to get their attention.

As expected, all eyes darted towards her. They stared wide eyed at her, and the awkward silence settled.

"Sam...is that really you?" Maddie asked, getting up.

"Hello, Maddie," the raven haired woman smiled nervously, before being enveloped in a strong hug.

"As much as we are happy about this return, which doesn't show any signs of possession, I think it can wait."

It was said by the man at one of the seats. He was mid aged, with grey hair tied in a low ponytail, with dark blue eyes. He was wearing a suit, yet another sign of his...bigger than average esthetic standards. Where he had taken a perfectly clean suit was another question.

"Oh, c'mon, Vladdie," Jack put in. "It's surely big news."

The said man rolled his eyes and leaned back in the seat. "Our darling overlords don't sit around and wait until we give hugs to each other," he mumbled. "If we hug each novice, we wouldn't be doing anything else."

"I'm with Masters on it. After what you've done, Ms. Manson, you should know better than to barge into meeting uninvited. In fact, you are about to..."

"It's not only because of the reunion," Sam responded. "I...I've found something important."

"What could you possibly..."

"Pariah has a son."

Silence once again came down upon the room. Each person wondered about own things, starting from if it was actually possible for the ghosts to reproduce, namely those were the thoughts of Jack Fenton. Someone wondered about how Sam even managed to come across that piece of information. How she came out alive was the biggest and most common question, and one which would get the most unexpected answer.

"Take a seat, Ms. Manson," Masters said, gesturing to the chair, his interest peaked. "And tell us everything."

Sam did as was told, glad that they were listening to her. But she had to choose words wisely, as she didn't want to throw shadow on her teacher. The young woman had already been in a horrid position, and each her word was going to be heavily weighed. God, she felt so stupid and pathetic right now. If that undead bastard had seen her like that, squirming uncomfortably under multiple gazes of the people he could easily kill...the ghost would have had a good laugh. Finally Sam found the proper words.

"His name is Daniel," she could see a tiny flash in her teacher's eyes. Oh, what a dirty joke the irony had played on her. "He assumes the form of a man about my age. White hair, green eyes. Looks almost human, if not for all that glow and other traits."

"Didn't take after his father, I presume."

"Why haven't we heard about him at all?"

"He has been told to come here not that long ago. Phantom was subduing rebels in his world."

"Phantom?"

"That's how he adresses himself," Sam clarified.

"So, from his words the ghosts are not united," Vlad snorted. "And why should we believe him? No reason, and probably it is a one big lie."

"Anything else? His powers?"

Sam rubbed her hands. "He hasn't shown anything yet. Except the fact that he can teleport."

"That alone is a problem. Hardly any ghost is capable of that. If he truly is the son of Pariah as he claims to be, he indeed has shown very little."

"Where did he come from?" Someone muttered.

"The issue is why," Maddie said. "First, we don't know what made Dark create himself a potential threat."

"Phantom is either extremely loyal to his father, or is afraid," Sam told. "He seemed insulted once I mentioned a possibility."

It really was a controversial idea. On one hand, the humans had been confident that the undead's society was a monolite block. On the other, why shouldn't there be intrigues and strife for the throne? There was very little information on the ghosts' world. Not many lived to tell the tale, and the undead didn't share the details. Nor had a conversation of any kind with humans.

"Loving his daddy, huh?" Vlad snorted. "We need more details, Manson."

"It was hard to get anything. He obviously knew I would be trying to do so. He is Fright Knight's replacement. Now he is in charge of all their operations here."

"Just perfect. We've pissed off the King so much?" Asked Jack with a strange note of pride.

"More like Fright has lost his trust for the matter," Vlad dismissed the idea, taking a glass of water. "The replacement changes nothing."

"Except Phantom knows exactly where we are."

The man choked on his drink, while the others stared in shock at the young huntress.

"What?! Impossible. How did he..."

"I don't know how. He said the adress of one of our entrances so easily...the one on Palm Street."

"So he also has spies. Probably some human traitors."

"And this information hasn't been shared with Fright Knight," Maddie added to Vlad's conclusion.

"They are rivals. I don't know anything but this," responded Sam. "But he dropped me near another entrance in the sewers. He knows about that one too."

"That leaves us with only one door."

"And if he knows about that one, too?"

"Do we have a choice?" Vlad grimly tapped on the table. "There are no other hideaouts left. We can only hope. Unless Manson wants to sneak out again and ask. The information is invaluable, however. So this time you are forgiven, girl, but shall you try this again...you know what will be coming."

No one argued with the man, as his arguments were strong and just.

"You may go...unless there is something else you can add."

"No, sir," Sam nodded. "But what..."

"The rest is our responsibility. And not a word about this, panic will make everything worse. It applies to everyone, are we clear?"

The huntress nodded again and left, knowing that arguing in her position was stupid. One part of her mind remembered that she had already spilled some part to Tucker. And he was sure to press further. Maybe she would leave some of the details, knowing how chatty the tech wizard was. Yes, that's it, hopefully no one learns about this.

Once outside, Sam realized that she was really hungry. A bulge was still in her pocket, reminding of the ghost's small present. She was going to keep it for later. But before eating the huntress knew she'd better change her clothes. It got her too many looks. She soon met her dark skinned friend again, but before taking the conversation any further, Sam got to her small crampy room.

She could only make one step inside, that's how small it was. A move to the left, she would trip over a dump and rough matress. To the left was a wall. Only a small lightbulb lit the place when the door was closed behind. Sam hated living like this, but it was her home, so she was not complaining. Her room was at least separate. Tucker had to sleep with everyone else.

Sam pulled out a small desk shelf from under the bed, before changing into other clothes. There wasn't much choice in furniture. Try to sneak them inside without calling attention. She rarely came up to the surface. Not to fight, but just to see the sunlight. It was unbearable to live in darkness forever. But she guessed that entertainment of hers was going to stop now. The control was going to strengthen now with such threat. Besides, if she ever met that ghosts again, she would be discovered instantly. It made Sam sad, but she took a breath, pulling a tank top on her body. Then, she pulled a bar given to her.

The wrapping was battered, and by touching it she realized that it was broken inside. The foil rustled in her pale hands, but Sam stopped herself, knowing that her friend was waiting for her. Maybe later. The raven haired woman stepped outside, where Tucker was still waiting for her.

"Finally," he grumbled. "Were you sewing your clothes there?"

Tucker immediately received an elbow. He should have known better than to tease her like this.

"I'm just a bit sore even still, Tuck," Sam came up with an explanation. "Let's go eat."

As they sat in the mess hall, the two quickly took their daily supplement amount. Some people were willing to make a certain amount of food disappear. On constant matter. Thank god for such dedicated folks.The food was tolerable, it was canned, lasted longer. But the taste was indeed bland after eating the same thing. Some died from scurvy, actually. The two sat near a crate serving as a table, before starting to eat. After a few spoonfuls the friends resumed their talk.

"So..." Tucker started quietly. "It's not an everyday occasion, Sam. You know that."

"Yeah. I don't want to really talk about it..."

"Have they...you know..."

Sam's eyes widened in disgust. "NO!" she whisper-yelled. "God, Tucker. You and your assumptions."

"I just assumed the worst. You didn't have your suit, so...are you wounded?"

"I'm healed. That bastard wanted me to live so he could make fun out of me."

"Who?"

"Phantom. He was the guy who saved me."

She had left the part of her being saved before the superiors. How would they look at her otherwise? But maybe Tuck could be told.

"That's ridiculous. Why would he do that?"

"To mock us, Tucker. He let me go with this only purpose. And you know...some things he said are right..."

"How can you say such thing..."

"Look around Tucker," Sam pointed at the room. "If not for the suits, pistols and techs, who would we be? People living in the rathole."

"They are the ones who made us live like this."

"I know, Tuck. Don't think I'm going to give up or anything. It's just...we look like homeless beggars more than anything. I hate it. Hate it because that arrogant prince is right, more than anything."

"Wait a second...a prince?"

Sam gave a sarcastic smirk. "I found my own prince charming," she said with faux bravado. "He just happened to be the son of Pariah."

Tucker dropped the spoon on the ground out of shock. It got him several glances, but the others returned to their routine soon after.

"He WHAT?"

"Yes."

"Jesus Christ, you are either the luckiest person alive or the exact opposite. Seeing how Pariah is..."

"Well, he is just as arrogant," Sam tapped on the crate. "He tricked me into thinking he was a human at first. He looks so much alike. Have you ever seen a ghost with a normal skin? And he actually healed me. Maybe some undead mumbo jumbo."

"He is surely strange...what did he want from you?"

"I don't know," Sam lied, knowing it perfectly well. "He even let me take shower..."

There were problems with clean water supplies from time to time. So it was actually joyful for her to wash herself. She would never admit it, however.

"Now this is completely nuts. Did he also bring you food on a silver plate?" Tucker asked sarcastically.

"Well, he did offer me some of his. He actually eats."

"Isn't it nice of him."

"And then stated that he doesn't care about the hunger out here. Don't know why I expected another answer."

Tucker snorted. "Maybe because his behavior is way too odd for a ghost. I wonder how his kind reacts to these games."

"Like they would do anything. Fright Knight's goons peed their pants at his mere sight."

They both laughed quietly.

"What was he doing, anyway?"

"He is now in charge. Probably had been an accident when he walked by while I was being beaten," Sam added bitterly.

After that they just sat there and talked about most of the huntress's findings. Tucker in turn told about his not so interesting job as a technician. That lasted for a while.

"Look, I want to show you something. You don't have anything else to do now?"

"I'm on break, that's why we are talking. What is it?"

"Common."

They got up, having finished the breakfast/lunch. The two went back through the corridor. Back to Sam's secluded room. As they were going however, two friends bumped into someone. The guy fell on the ground, and Sam winced.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you," she said, outstretching her hand.

"That's...that's okay," responded the victim of her inattentiveness with hesistation.

He was about the same age as her, with very dark raven hair and, in contrast, the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. They even gave both of the friends chills. He had a tiny smile, and, despite being quite pale, looked healthier than many. If you don't count the scars seen on the lower part of the neck. He was wearing a loose white T-shirt and blue jeans. It didn't look like he belonged there.

"No one pays attention to me, anyway," he said, smile still present. The guy had got up by himself.

"Why?" Tucker asked.

"I'm just doing small jobs, where no one looks much," the guy chuckled and rubbed his hand. "Cleaning, moving things...I want to help how I can."

Raised eyebrows were his answer. He sighed. "I'm Danny, by the way."

Sam snorted. Damn it, how many of them were there? Danny looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"What? My name is funny?"

"Oh, no, it's just...nevermind."

The young man loosened up a bit. "I live and work on the surface. So I come here only occasionally. Do what I am asked to do, although I'm not permitted to many areas."

"Why aren't you fighting then?"

Danny chuckled dryly, lifting the edge of his T-shirt. The others could only stare at the ravaged piece of flesh.

"My career ended quickly," he explained. "Thanks for the conversation, I guess, but I got to go."

"Wait."

Danny stopped and looked at her curiously. "Where did those..."

"I'm not telling, sorry," he mumbled timidly. "I just met you."

With that he hurried away. Tucker looked at his friend.

"He is weird," the tech wizard commented.

"He is just shy," Sam's lilac eyes peered at the corner behind which Danny had disappeared.

Although, he did look somewhat familiar to the young woman. She couldn't put a finger on it.


End file.
